Pride of the Summer
by sdbubbles
Summary: "She was the pride of the summer that year; she was my sweetheart, my lady; we walked the Black Rock and we stopped by the loch; it's good to be young and daring." An eventful holiday reminds the six of them that they're all still young in the heart.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this idea came to me while listening to "Pride of the Summer" by Runrig, and wouldn't leave me alone, so here it is!**

**Sarah x**

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"I can't believe you talked us into this," Gerry griped as they, all six of them, sat in Inverness train station, waiting on the train to Kyle of Lochalsh. "Glasgow, I can just about deal with. The Isle of Skye is crossing a line."

"Have you ever been there, Gerry?" Sandra challenged him. "Exactly," she nodded. "Give it a chance."

"You're missing the point, Sandra," he whined. "There's nobody there."

"Actually, nine thousand and odd people live on Skye," Brian calmly commented, accepting a coffee from his wife. "Two and a half thousand of those live in the village of Portree, which is where we're going. Well, we're actually going to Heatherfield, which is a little bit out of Portree, but you get my drift."

"Exactly. _Village_," Gerry replied. "Nine thousand people in an area that size? It just ain't natural. It'll be like a bloody ghost town." He glared at Steve, this being his wise idea when they were reminded they had leave they needed to take. "There is _nothing_ there," he emphasised, as if it was obvious why he wasn't happy.

"Just wait and see," Charlie sighed, resting her head on Steve's chest. "You might even surprise yourself."

"Seriously, though," Gerry continued. "What's actually there? Is there anything worth going for?"

"Seafood, wildlife, hiking, kayaking, mountain biking, natural beauty, ceilidhs that last till three in the morning, Skye Camanachd..." Steve listed without even thinking about it, playing with Charlie's red hair absent-mindedly.

"What was that last one?!" Gerry demanded. He obviously did not speak the Gaelic, then. "Never mind," he groaned, mainly to spare himself Brian's lengthy explanation of exactly what Skye Camanachd was. "Ugh. There's another hour until the train comes."

"The Eastgate's just across the road if you want to go shopping," Charlie suggested to the other two women, so Sandra and Esther picked up their handbags and dumped their cases with the men. Sandra was just about ready to throttle Gerry for his pessimism. She was actually looking forward to the peace and quiet of rural Scotland. Well, as much peace and quiet she, Esther and Charlie were likely to get, since Gerry, Brian and Steve were with them. But it was more appealing than dealing with them in London.

"I'm telling you," Sandra warned her companions. "If Gerry says one more negative thing about going on this holiday, I _will_ kill him."

Esther giggled and Charlie just shook her head. This was the first time she and Sandra had met – she had met up with them at Glasgow station – and she was finding the younger woman growing on her rapidly. She was very sweet, and she could understand how Steve had fallen for her.

"Skye isn't _that_ bad. You can get from Portree to Struan in about half an hour, and we can hire a car. It'll be fine," Charlie smiled. "Now, I don't know about you, but if I'm going to put up with those three between here and Kyle, I'm gonna need some chocolate, cola and crisps," she winked.

They made their way to the supermarket at the very bottom of the shopping centre and bought a great deal of chocolate and crisps to sustain them on their journey west. It had been a long day; they'd left London in the early hours of the morning, changed to a bus at Glasgow and picked up Charlie, four hours on that bus, and were now waiting for the train to Kyle of Lochalsh where they would take the bus across the Skye Bridge. One hell of a journey. Especially with three men who never shut up.

They then killed the forty minutes they still had to wait by wandering aimlessly through the Eastgate shopping centre, before returning to Steve, Gerry and Brian. And just in time, too, as the train was boarding by that point. They all showed their tickets and found a table, which Charlie, Steve, Brian and Esther sat at, and Gerry and Sandra took the two seats directly across the gangway.

"So what do you reckon we should do on this holiday? Apart from moan about the location," she quipped before he could open his mouth to answer.

"Ceilidhs sound alright," Gerry allowed, and Sandra snorted at the thought.

"Yeah, but only 'cause there's plenty of whisky and you have full access to Skye's population of unknowing women," she retorted, knowing his womanising ways very well by now. "And I don't think you'd do very well at that kind of dancing," she added with a smirk as Esther passed her over some crisps.

"And why not?" he demanded, pretending to be offended.

"It's very...physical," she explained. He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and she immediately slapped him across his chest without any hesitation. "I remember doing it once in PE at school. Every one of us was sweating buckets by the end of the period."

"Oh, now I'm really looking forward to it," he quipped sarcastically. "Sounds brilliant."

"I didn't say we didn't have fun," she replied calmly, opening her book where she'd left it on the bus earlier. The train pulled away from the station, and Sandra settled next to Gerry, reading her book. She wasn't that bothered about sitting like this with him, so long as he shut up for a while.

As they headed further west, the clouds became thicker and greyer, until rain was sheeting down past the windows. It was July, so she'd expected the weather to be halfway decent, but she knew it could be temperamental. She felt herself drifting into sleepiness, her book beginning to fall out of her hand.

Her head fell onto Gerry's shoulder, but she didn't particularly care. She was just wanting to sleep the journey away. Which she did, since when Steve woke her up, they were five minutes away from Kyle of Lochalsh station.

They all scrambled to get their things together and find their luggage before getting to a door just as it opened. It was just their luck that there was a bus waiting at the station to go across the bridge, ready to leave just as they got on.

They all sat together, and Sandra this time found herself next to Charlie. "Where are we even staying?" Sandra asked interestedly.

"A croft cottage called _Aite Taimh_," she smiled. "It's actually quite nice in that area. You might even like it. Two double rooms and a twin room, so we all have a bed," she laughed. "If you're going in a room with Gerry, you'll be wanting the twin room, I take it?"

"God, yes, and don't you dare suggest anything different to him," she warned her. Charlie just burst out laughing at Sandra's reaction. When they got to Portree, Steve went to collect the car he'd hired and they made their way to Heatherfield, and Sandra was amazed by how quiet the little hamlet was. It was clearly an old crofting hamlet, but the houses had a strange charm about them.

They got into the cottage and found their bedrooms, and Sandra immediately tripped trying to get between the bed and the wall. "Watch what you're doing," Gerry told her grumpily. "Last thing we need is to go back to Inverness because you've bashed your head open," he added.

"Such a charmer today, aren't we?" she snapped. "God, cheer up, Gerry! It's a bloody holiday, for Christ's sake. Would you rather be listening to Strickland hark on about a load of utter rubbish?" she reminded him of the job they were free of for a while. "Exactly," she found herself saying for the second time.

"Well, I'm pushing your bed into mine in case you trip again," he decided, leaning against it so it moved into his. Sandra felt herself horrified, and returned it back to it's original position. Gerry just glared at her and moved it back where he put it, and told her, "If you think I'm going to watch you fall over through the night and split your head open, you can think again, Sandra."

"Fine," she huffed. She felt a bit sorry for Gerry. He was so used to London that being taken so far out of it obviously unnerved him somewhat. "Gerry," she began. "Try and enjoy yourself, eh? It can't possibly be as bad as you're thinking it'll be."

She rubbed his arm lightly and continued unpacking. Looking through the cloths she'd brought with her, she noticed none of her pyjamas were particularly substantial. Steve had said Skye was generally quite warm in the summer, even if it was wet. So she'd decided on a satin nightdress and a vest top and shorts. And she was regretting it as she looked across the now-kingsize bed.

So...ten days, on holiday with five other people, sharing a bed with a man she wasn't quite sure how she felt about. Such good fun.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please leave a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm not entirely sure about this chapter because it's from Steve's point of view, and I normally wrote from Sandra or sometimes Gerry's point of view. But I think this will end up that each chapter is from a different person's point of view. Is the phrase "point of view" starting to sound weird now? ;)**

**Sarah x**

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Steve was unpacking in the double room with Charlie, and he wondered what Sandra and Gerry would do about having to share such a small space. He'd come to realise just how private a person Sandra really was, and how spirited Gerry could be. And he'd seen all he needed to when it came to how they felt about each other. Sandra had two looks she reserved especially for Gerry; one was a glare so stony it would make any hardened criminal cower, the other being a sweet, warm, loving smile.

"What you thinking about, love?" Charlie asked, noticing his strange silence.

"Nothing," he shrugged. "Just Sandra and Gerry. They're...odd. They have this thing where they argue and row and have a go, but I think there's more to it," he explained.

"Oh, don't get involved, Steve," she groaned, knowing his meddling nature all too well. "I want a peaceful holiday, not one where you scheme and piss about, trying to set those two up," she warned him, giving him a hard stare.

He raised his hands and said, "Aye, alright!" But in the back of his mind, he was thinking of how it would work out. Sandra would probably kill him. Gerry would probably kill him. Brian would just laugh. Esther would be exasperated. And Charlie would tell him off something terrible.

He felt Charlie's arms around his waist, and he looked down to see her pretty smile. "Did you even grow up at all?" she joked. He leaned down and kissed her gently. He could feel her smile against his lips, and she was realising that he really was as juvenile as he acted at times.

"Are we going to the ceilidh tomorrow night? The one after the shinty game?" he asked the boss. Charlie was the boss, and he knew it. Though he was pleased that it was the shinty tomorrow; he was dead beat, and it didn't start until two in the afternoon, which left plenty of time for a good old lie-in.

"Aye, I think so. Although I doubt Gerry can dance, and Brian strikes me as a two-left-feet kind of bloke," she grinned. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "Because we don't have any food yet. We could always just get fish and chips from Portree?" she suggested.

"Sandra and I will take a drive into the village and go to the shop. I want to speak to her, anyway," he added, finding a fresh sweater to change into after travelling all day in his current one. He clocked Charlie's icy warning glare, and said to her gently, "I won't start interfering, alright? I just want to know that she's alright. She's been a bit odd lately," he admitted.

"Define odd," she answered his explanation.

"One minute she's subdued and the next she'll be argumentative, and then she'll be all smiles. Same routine, over and over. And it's _always_ Gerry who gets it in the neck when she gets all uptight," he described the fortnight or so in Sandra's presence.

"She seemed happy enough to me, even if she was a wee bitty quiet," Charlie shrugged.

"You just wait," he pointed at nothing in particular. "By tomorrow morning, she'll have fallen out with Gerry. Bet ye a tenner they have an argument tonight," he challenged, and they shook on it. He kissed Charlie quickly again and picked up his wallet and the car keys.

He knocked on Sandra and Gerry's door and got told to come in. When he entered, he noticed the beds had been pushed together, and that Gerry wasn't there as Sandra sat with her head in her hands, looking very fed up. "Sandra, do you want to come through to Portree and get some food?" he offered her. Her back was to him, so he couldn't see her face, but she did manage to plaster a smile across her face by the time she turned to him.

"Yeah, sure," she smiled, picking up her coat and handbag. He couldn't stop himself from putting an arm around her shoulders as she passed him; he hated to see her mood swing as drastically as it did, because it meant he knew that, underneath the aggressiveness and the smiles, there was something eating at her.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, they found Esther and Brian in the sitting room with books. "We're just going for food. Any special requests, guys?" Steve asked. Sandra remained silent, which was most unusual.

Esther took out some money and handed him some coins. "Can you get some fresh apples, please?"

He pushed her hand back and told her, "I'm paying for it."

That got Sandra going. "Steve, you are _not_ paying for six people to eat for ten days!" she ordered him, and he just grinned.

"We're on holiday, Sandra," he reminded her. "You don't get to tell me what to do." She just rolled her eyes and returned to her restrained silence. He winked at Brian, who just smirked into his book. "Where's Gerry?" Steve asked.

"Not a clue," Esther sighed. "He just said he was going to get his bearings. I don't think he's taking very well to being out in the middle of nowhere."

"Or he's just being a miserable old sod," Sandra supplied, clearly irritated by his childish behaviour. She had a point – no-one made Gerry tag along. He was expressly told that if it wasn't for him, he could stay in London. But he'd insisted, and now he was being a bit of an idiot over it.

"Right, we better get going," Steve announced, and he guided Sandra out to the car. She silently sat in the passenger seat as he drove them into the small supermarket in Portree. He asked her opinion on just about everything he picked up but generally received one-word answers for his efforts.

When he asked what kind of potatoes to buy, all he got was, "Any."

"Sandra," he groaned. "What's bothering you?" He could see in her face that there was plenty bothering her, but he wasn't counting on her admitting to any of it.

"I'm fine," she deflected.

"You don't look it," he persisted, lifting a large sack of potatoes into the trolley. "Actually, you look bloody miserable. Why? Is this about Gerry being such a grouch?" he asked, trying to coax it out of her, but she wasn't having any of it. She just raised an eyebrow at him, silently telling him to leave the subject of Gerry Standing alone.

"Leave it," warned Sandra, her temper rising quickly. "I'm warning you now, Steve. Leave it." It was a deadly serious warning from a deadly serious woman, and he decided to completely ignore it. There was no point in dancing around this anymore. Steve had put up with this rubbish for well over two weeks, and he wasn't about to spend another ten days listening to it.

"Have you had a row with Gerry?" he pried. He wasn't leaving this alone until he got an answer, because he refused to let those two spend their entire holiday at each other's throats. They'd done enough of that in the office recently.

"No," she snapped. Ah. He'd hit a nerve there. "I'm just getting sick of his mood now."

"Uh-huh," he returned in a non-committal grunt. "Look, Sandra. I took you up here to enjoy yourself, not to get pissed off with Gerry. Just ignore him, He'll snap out of it," he reassured her, patting her back lightly.

"Why does he do this to me?" she sighed, and Steve was suddenly confused. The one thing Gerry was not was deliberately malicious, especially to Sandra. Yes, he liked a joke, but he never intended to hurt anyone, least of all the guv'nor. "Why does he get me so wound up?" she blurted out, as if she'd been keeping this in for months – years, even – and couldn't keep it in any longer. "I want to slap him half the time!"

"And what do you want to do the other half of the time?" he asked, picking up some milk and cheese and yoghurt. He turned to see that she'd gone bright red, and had to start laughing at her. "Your face!" he exclaimed in amusement.

He soon realised that Sandra didn't think this was funny in the slightest, and he could see why. He had the idea that this had been going on for years before he turned up. "It's not funny, Steve."

It definitely wasn't, if the look on her face was anything to go by. This was the first time he had seen Sandra Pullman close to tears, and it happened to be because she had found herself falling for Gerry Standing. That protective side of his nature came out again and he pulled her into a tight cuddle there and then, in the middle of the dairy aisle. "It'll be alright, darlin'," he promised her.

"Don't call me that," she grumbled. Typical Sandra; she pushed away any form of affection. It was his was of being a friend, and he was so used to pet names that they just rolled off the tongue. "Gerry learned about my name a long, long time ago."

"I'll call you "darlin'" if I want to," he asserted. "Right now, you need a pal. Now stop being thrawn and accept somebody's friendship for once," he ordered her into her ear. "We'll sort this, Sandra. For mine and Brian's sanity as much as yours," he grinned.

He could feel her laugh against his body, and he knew that, although she was still upset with Gerry, there was now a chance she would be able to put that aside and show what she, deep down, felt for him: love.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please leave a review and tell me how I've done!  
Sarah x**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Right, this was a strange chapter to write - I'm not used to writing arguments - but I thought I'd try something new as an excuse to excuse myself from the evil's cow's company. It's a long story, but I'm stuck with her until Friday at the earliest, and she is not a nice person. But enough of that. Bottom line: I have no idea why I went this way with this story, but I hope it works.**

**Sarah x**

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Steve walked into the kitchen with Sandra in tow, both heavily laden with bags. "Gerry!" Charlie called. "Come and give us a hand, pal!"

A few seconds later, Gerry appeared and Sandra suddenly looked really quite annoyed. She turned to Charlie and said, "You found him then?"

"I went out to see where I was. You got a problem with that?" he challenged her. Charlie took a quick glance at Steve for help, and considered calling Esther or Brian through to stop this before it started. But she quickly realised there was no stopping this. This was what Steve was telling her about. Sandra had spent all day trying her best to cheer Gerry up, then went silent, and now she was angry with him. But at least there was a reason for it.

"No. What I have a problem with is your attitude. It bloody stinks!" she snapped.

"That a fact?!"

"Yes, it is. All day you've been complaining about coming up here after Steve and Charlie going to all this trouble to sort it out for us! If you don't want to be here, go back to Inverness and get the train to London, and stop bringing everyone else down," she half-shouted at him. "You can be a right arse sometimes," she muttered as she crouched to the floor to unpack the chilled shopping, but Charlie was sure she was the only one who heard it.

"Do _not_ tell me what I can and can't do," Gerry said, his voice and temper rising rapidly. Charlie just watched. There was nothing she could do to intervene. This had been boiling up all day as Gerry moaned and Sandra tried to look on the bright side until silence was the only thing left to use.

"Really?" she demanded, straightening up from the bag she'd been unpacking into the fridge. "You want to shout at me?" She was up in his face now, and he stood tall, challenging her and daring her to even so much as touch him, because she clearly wanted to come a slap off his face. "Go on then! Have your best go! In case you hadn't noticed, not much anyone says to me will bother me anymore!"

"Sandra," Charlie finally spoke, but she was completely ignored. "Sandra, calm down!" she implored her new friend, but to no avail.

"Go on! I probably deserve it," she pointed out. She pushed him backwards, provoking him to glare harder at her as he struggled to keep his temper. "That's what I thought," she snarled when he said and did nothing, and then she returned to the shopping, leaving Gerry speechless. From the look on his face, it was evident that Sandra had not gone that far before.

Steve held his hand out, and Charlie took a ten pound note out of her back pocket and placed it on his palm. They did exchange a worried glance though. Whatever Steve had said to Sandra hadn't calmed her temper. It hadn't made it any worse, but it just didn't make anything better.

Charlie went through to speak to Brian and Esther, leaving Steve to see if he could help in the kitchen before those two killed each other. Honestly. Was there really so much passion between them that it came out in the form of almighty rows? She'd only seen them together since she got on the train at Glasgow, and she could already see they were attracted to each other. They way Sandra had fallen asleep on Gerry's chest earlier was adorable.

"Brian," she approached the older member of the team. By all accounts, he was exceedingly weird and extremely obsessive, but good-hearted and exceptionally intelligent. "How do you deal with Sandra and Gerry? Do you leave them to it, or do you try and step in?"

"What, and risk a slap off Sandra and a broken jaw from Gerry?" Brian joked. "Nah. When you intervene, you generally just irritate them both more. They'll get over it. They're like that," he explained, demonstrating their tight bond by crossing his fingers.

"I just don't want them to fall out."

"Bit late for that," Esther chuckled. "Charlie, I have watched those two fall out and make up for nearly a decade. They always end up friends again. I'd go as far as to say it makes them even closer," she smiled. Esther was trying to put Charlie's mind at ease – she was well aware of that – but she could kind of see where she was coming from. Steve had told her that every time Sandra and Gerry fought, they made up closer than ever. Maybe they were right and this was nothing, but Charlie felt like she was caught in the middle of a hurricane and there was nothing she could do.

"Am I just overreacting?" she asked the older couple.

"Not really. I heard them going at it from here, and if I hadn't been around it every day for over nine years, I probably would've reacted like you," Brian smiled. "Just don't worry. Let Steve deal with it if he really needs to. He's quite good with both of them."

"OK," Charlie sighed. She didn't like this atmosphere, feeling like she was in the middle of it all, and one wrong word and it would all blow up, but she had to endure it for it to go away.

There were sulky footsteps heading up the stairs, too heavy to be Sandra's, and in a moment of madness, Charlie decided to follow them. She knocked on the door to Sandra and Gerry's bedroom and received, "I don't care, Sandra. Just leave me to calm down!"

"It's me," she simply told him, her Scottish accent very clearly setting her voice apart from Sandra's. She opened the door and found Gerry stretched across his bed, staring at the ceiling. "Are there any answers up there?" she asked, looking up to the spot he was gazing at.

He looked round at her, and she could clearly see that he was more upset than anything else. He wasn't angry anymore, or irritated, but he was simply hurt. "I'm not sure there is an answer anymore," he confessed. "Can't live with her, can't live without her."

"Well, you kind of deserved that," Charlie grinned.

"Yeah, I know," he groaned. "I hate falling out with her."

Charlie knelt down next to him and asked him, "What about her? Do you think she enjoys it? Do you think she likes the shouting and fighting?" He looked into her eyes for a brief second and shook his head, partly in answer to the question, and partly in despair. "Precisely. She doesn't hate you," she explained. "I don't think she could ever hate you. She just can't deal with the way she feels sometimes."

"What do you mean, "the way she feels?" It's pretty bloody obvious she feels like killing me," he laughed, the sound lacking in any humour.

"Just now, maybe," Charlie allowed. "Look, stop walking on eggshells. You're both as bad as each other. All I see is two people who refuse to admit there is something between them and decide they should push each other away instead. It's ridiculous," she stated bluntly.

"And exactly what do you think there is between us?" Gerry demanded.

"Friendship," she answered. "Probably more than that. The way she fell asleep on top of you on the train from Inverness earlier, anybody would think you were a couple," she explained honestly. "She doesn't want to fight you, Gerry. She'd probably rather love you."

Gerry snorted at the idea, and Charlie sighed. It was odd how he couldn't see what she was trying to say. "Charlie, she's spent the past decade telling me I'm a stupid, immature tosser," he told her, and Charlie couldn't help but burst out laughing. Brian had told her about that when they sat together on the bus out of Glasgow.

"Yeah, and what did your pal Jack Halford have to say about that?" she challenged. "Brian told me the whole story of how you got the blame for the maggots in the fridge. I'm starting to think Jack was a wise man."

"Yeah, he was," Gerry smiled. Charlie silently left, leaving him to think about it. Surely he would see it?

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please leave a review and let me know if I did OK!  
Sarah x**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: OK, so this one is another strange one. It kinda turns into a one-sided conversation/confession, but it felt right, so I hope everyone agrees!  
**

**Sarah x**

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It was almost midnight before Sandra decided to bite the bullet and go, exhausted, to bed. Gerry had been up there for hours, and he was probably asleep by now, after he had stormed off when Steve had tried to calm both their moods while Charlie had spoken to Brian and Esther about it all. She didn't envy Charlie's position, she realised as she brushed her teeth; they'd known each other less than a day and already all hell had broke loose. What an impression to make.

She silently opened the door, hoping the Gerry was sleeping. He appeared to be, so she went and got changed into her pyjamas. "I'm sorry," Gerry's deep voice said out of nowhere, and Sandra's heart leapt to her mouth.

"Gerry!" she exclaimed. "I thought you were asleep! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" she scolded lightly, pulling her shorts on. She heard his gravelly chuckle, and smiled to herself.

"I'm sorry for being a grumpy old sod all day," he reiterated to her. "I'm sorry for causing a row."

"It's fine," Sandra sighed, getting under her duvet, lying back to back with him. She was secretly pleased he was still speaking to her, and she so wanted to roll over and give him a cuddle; she knew he found this hard. She knew the change must have shocked him, and he had always found the countryside hard to deal with.

"It's not fine. I know you hate arguing with me as much as I do," he explained to her. "I see it in your eyes when you shout at me."

"Shut up, Gerry," she advised, her voice broken from holding back tears of relief and weariness. She knew he heard the difference in her voice. "You're forgiven, alright? Am I forgiven?" she wondered aloud.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he stated into the dark.

"I was way, way out of line earlier," she allowed. "I shouldn't have went in your face like that. I was wrong," she admitted. "Am I forgiven?" she asked again, completely serious. She felt him roll around to face her back.

When she felt a strong arm slip under her own and around her waist, she smiled to herself again, feeling a little like a teenage girl falling in love. She could feel him breathe into her hair, his chest moving slowly against her back. She didn't even want to move him away from her. She wanted to lie like this forever and ever.

She felt his breathing slow even more, his heart beat decelerating as he fell asleep holding her. When she was sure he was asleep, she whispered, "I love you," to him, turning her head to kiss his cheek. "How long can we keep this up before we break?" she asked him quietly, receiving no reply from the man sleeping with his arms around her. "What's that song Charlie had on her phone?" she said, more to herself than him this time.

"_I'd give you everything I am, all my broken heartbeats, until I know you'll understand...and I will make sure and keep my distance. Say "I love you" when you're not listening. And how long can we keep this up, up, up?_" she sang gently to him.

"Looks like we'll keep it up for the rest of our lives," she sighed. "You know, when we first met, I couldn't stand you. The second you called me "sweetheart" I took an instant dislike to you. I even told Jack I'd deck you," she giggled to herself. "I still remember exactly what I said – _They come on your recommendation as it is. One more crack like that and I'll deck him_," she recalled in the very same clipped to she'd used with Jack all those years ago.

"But you've grown on me. You somehow made yourself appealing to me. You annoyed the hell out of me, but after a couple of years, I suddenly found myself falling for you. And before I knew it, I was actually in love with a man who had done nothing but wind me up since the first day I bloody met him. I was actually resisting the temptation to jump up and kiss you that time you started singing your funeral song. I was restraining myself from telling you that every woman you came across was wrong for you, because I wanted to be the one with you."

She felt the tears fall down her cheeks, and her hand was on Gerry's. She'd just spilled her heart out to him, at the one time he wouldn't hear her. "I love you," she said again, half-hoping he was awake to hear her. But he let out a soft snore, and she realised she had just said all of that for nothing. She continued though; there was something therapeutic in telling all her deepest secret feelings to the man who couldn't hear her.

"I want to be the one who stands next to you rolling my eyes. Well, I do that anyway," she reminded herself, "but I want it to mean something. I want to mean something to you. Because you mean the world to me, and I've never told you. I've never told you that I wish you would come and tell me you want me. I know I'm a handful. I know I've got my issues, and there's plenty of them. I'm not perfect. I never pretended to be, either."

She turned her head again to make sure he was still asleep; he was out for the count, his face the most peaceful she had seen it all day. It wasn't that she didn't understand why he was uptight; she did see that he was unnerved by the isolation on the island compared to the business of London. She was just frustrated that he took a strop rather than talk about it. That he didn't come to her about it. She'd tried reassuring him earlier, and she was sure it had worked until he disappeared and they started arguing.

There was nothing standard about their relationship. They either hated each other or loved each other. It was intense, and there was no middle ground. When they fell out, all hell broke loose, but when they were settled, they protected each other fiercely, never telling the other how they were feeling.

"I wish you loved me as much as I love you," she admitted, wiping the tears from her face. "Maybe we wouldn't fight so much. Maybe you would be happier than you are chasing any woman who shows an interest. I don't want you to change. I want you to keep me on the right path. I don't want you to lie and tell me I'm right when I'm not. I want you to be able to judge my behaviour and love me anyway. The way I do with you," she explained to nobody in particular.

"I want you the way you are, even if you annoy me sometimes. I want you and everything you are. I need you," she confessed. She felt his arm tighten slightly around her waist, and she panicked. Had he heard her? He was still snoring lightly, so she let herself believe he was still sleeping, right through her little confessional.

"I love you," she whispered for a third and final time before she closed her eyes and attempted to sleep. The warmth of his body was comforting to her, reassuring her that this day of arguing and sulking had never really come between them. It reminded her that they had a strong bond between them, made of trust and love.

The way his hand so naturally and easily fell onto her abdomen felt so right, like they were made to be together. It felt so careless, like he didn't even think about doing it. Like it was natural and normal. She hadn't realised there was more to this than simple attraction. Until now.

Now she was finding she felt safe here. She was always on her guard, watching for people lying to her, or those who were quite simply out to get her. But Gerry wasn't a liar and he wasn't out to hurt her, and she valued the security she found in that more than she would ever tell him. Not while he could hear her, anyway.

She felt herself drift into a comfortable sleep, her hand on Gerry's as he embraced her. She could have sworn he tightened his grip on her, his thumb catching hers. This was what she wanted, she realised. She didn't want to fight him. She didn't want to push him away. She wanted to get along with him. She wanted to hold him close and never, ever let go.

Visions of fights of the past and kisses of the future plagued her dreams as she fell into the deep sleep she so needed after the stress today had brought. She only hoped these kisses were premonitions.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please leave a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: OK, so this is another odd chapter I'm not too sure about. But I hope you like :)**

**Sarah x**

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"Why wouldn't that guy come off? You know, the one who took a shinty stick to the arm and probably spent the last hour of the match with a broken hand and arm?" Sandra asked Steve as he parking the car in the drive. They'd been to watch the shinty match – Skye against Newtonmore – and then wandered the main street of Portree for a little while, going in and out of shops.

"What, the guy from Newtonmore?" Steve asked her, looking in the mirror at her. She nodded, and he gave her an answer: "He's Norman Campbell and he's off his head. He played right through the Camanachd Cup final against Kingussie with a bashed up head in 2011. He's insane," he chuckled. "I take it I won't be catching you with a caman in your hands any time soon?"

"Definitely not," she laughed. "I'm not getting beat up over a stone wrapped in leather!"

"It's actually an ancient combination of hockey, golf and curling," Brian explained, holding up a leaflet he had picked up. "Fascinating actually. This game's been going for centuries, and it's barely changed."

They got out, and they were barely inside before Charlie announced to them, "The ceilidh starts at six, so you'd best go and get ready." She glanced at Gerry. He'd been exceedingly nice to her all day. Either he was atoning for his sins or he had heard her last night. She just prayed it was the former, because she didn't know if she could deal with the idea that he knew how she felt about him in her heart.

She darted up the stairs and began to tackle her windswept hair before it got any more out of hand. Her tugged the brush through it and attacked the long blonde locks with straighteners, twisting them so her hair fell in loose golden waves. It was simple, quick, easy and elegant.

Gerry was behind her, pulling on a smart shirt and trousers, and a suit jacket and tie to match. "Gerry, can you please pass me my dress and heels from the wardrobe?" she asked over-politely, as she had been all day. She was worried she had said too much last night, that she might have woke him up. To her relief he had said nothing, and she honestly believed he was sleeping, but it didn't stop the paranoia growing in her mind.

She dusted dark silver eyeshadow over her eyelids and put her mascara on, and put pink tinted lip balm on as well. He handed her her dress and silver high heels. She looked around to make sure he wasn't looking; he seemed to respect her privacy and was digging through his bag for something while she undressed and pulled her dress on.

She slipped the shoes on and looked in the long mirror on the wall. She didn't look bad for a woman the wrong side of fifty, she decided. Gerry was suddenly behind her, pulling her around by the shoulder to face him. He slipped a intricately designed Celtic bracelet onto her wrist. "I saw you looking at this earlier, so I got Charlie and Esther to distract you," he explained.

"Thank you," she said, staring at him, waiting for him to explain himself. But he never gave an explanation.

His hand lingered on hers just a moment too long, and she felt a strange heat where his fingers had touched her skin. "You're beautiful," he told her.

"Yeah, this is my favourite dress," she grinned, gesturing down at the purple cloth and the stones on the single shoulder band. He shook his head lightly.

"Not the dress. _You _are beautiful, Sandra," he clarified. She felt her heart rate increase rapidly when she met his eyes. He inched in closer to her, and she instinctively backed her head away, her self-preservation kicking in. She busied herself with finding the silver clutch that matched her dress. "Sandra," he sighed.

"Gerry," she returned, betraying no emotion in her voice as she placed her phone, lip balm, compact mirror and purse into that little bag, which was a miracle.

"I had a strange dream last night," he told her.

"You shouldn't have had that cheese and crackers on the train then," she joked, not letting on that she was rattled that he thought he had had a dream on the one night she had torn out her heart and given it to him.

"It was really weird. You were singing a song. I remember because I quite like it. "Distance" by Christina Perri," he told her, and she froze where she stood. That was what she'd sang quietly last night. But thankfully he thought it was just a dream, and she very much wanted to keep it that way.

"I've always said you're mind worked in mysterious ways," she quipped, choosing to make a joke of it rather than face him and tell him why he had thought of that song in his sleep. "Never mind it," she advised him with a smile. "Everyone has weird dreams now and again," she insisted.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he smiled. He linked his arm in hers and guided her down the stairs.

Sandra didn't know how she was going to survive tonight. Dancing was the least of her worries. She had Gerry to contend with. Well, more specifically, her attraction to Gerry. And before she even knew it, they were all piled in the car again and heading down to the village hall.

Sandra found herself sat between Brian and Gerry, and she felt where the back of Gerry's hand casually brushed her thigh because there was nowhere else to put his hand. She felt where their shoulders touched, where their legs were resting against one another. She'd never been so acutely aware of his touch until tonight.

He took her arm again as she got out and Steve and Charlie led them inside. The music was loud and upbeat, and they soon found themselves dancing, each dance demonstrated for those who didn't know them. Gerry was surprisingly good at it, while Esther had tried once to dance with Brian to no avail. But they were dancing an Orkney Reel all of a sudden, and they were spinning around, holding both of each other's hands, faster and faster until Sandra was giggling and Gerry was smiling, letting her go to stand opposite him once again.

Gerry even managed to stay sober, and Sandra found herself laughing and clapping her hands to the beat of the music. "I love you," she whispered once again when he turned away to speak to Brian, her words unheard over the volume of the ceilidh music.

Sandra felt like the night hadn't been long enough by the time she was in the bedroom with Gerry, trying to force the zip on the side of her dress down with no success. It was always harder to take off than put on, this dress. "Gerry," she groaned. "Can you help me get this zip down?" she asked him, giving up on doing it herself.

His hands were warm against the skin under her arm and the top of her back as he held her steady, forcing the zip down for her. She turned to face him, and was mesmerised by him. Suddenly, she was kissing him fiercely, and she felt his lips moving against hers, as if they were made to be like this.

But then she remembered all the reasons this was so wrong, even though it felt so right. She came to her senses and pulled back from him, gasping for air. "I am so, so sorry," she apologised breathlessly. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's fine," he gave her a slight smile, leaving her to change into her pyjamas. What had she done? He wasn't hers to claim like that. Something just took over and she was kissing him before she even realised what she was doing. She didn't realise until it was too late.

She didn't even know what to say to him now, she she just got into bed, resisting the urge to cry her frustration out. She silently allowed the tears to stream down her face, making damn sure Gerry didn't catch on.

She resolved to feign sleep and hope he didn't try and talk to her. She heard nothing from him for about half an hour, so she assumed yet again that he was sleeping. But then he rolled over and did exactly the same as last night: draped an arm over her waist.

She couldn't help herself. She turned around in his arms and rested her head on his chest. She was quickly realising that, no matter how many times she screwed up and did something she probably shouldn't have, Gerry wouldn't actually let her go.

She felt him kiss her forehead and pull her tight, and she knew she was forgiven for crossing the line tonight. She let her arm fall over his middle and drew some comfort from the fact he didn't want to let her go. That he let her do this, even if she was sleeping to him. Even if she was meant to be blissfully unaware of the fact that they were currently wrapped up in each other.

Because, in every way, she was wrapped up in him.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I know this is very soppy, but I actually don't mind that much. And this chapter is for Beth, since she's feeling so rotten and needs some sappy Sherry goodness to cheer her up.**

**Sarah x**

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Sandra was in Gerry's arms when she woke very suddenly. She wasn't sure what woke her up, but she knew she was no longer comfortable being held tight by Gerry. She wriggled free gently and looked at the digital clock. It read _04:11_, and she heaved a sigh as she rolled over to face the window, with her back to Gerry. She closed her eyes again and attempted to sleep, but it was no use.

After what felt like over an hour, she heard Gerry groan and roll over, and she froze dead when she felt a soft kiss to her neck. She pretended she was sleeping. Oh, Christ, what was she meant to do?! "I love you," he whispered. She clearly wasn't meant to be hearing this, as he'd woke in the early hours of the morning to tell her this.

"I love you more than I've ever let on," he told her. She felt something warm inside her in the knowledge that he actually did feel the same as her about all this. "I know I wind you up. I do it on purpose a lot of the time. I act the fool to see you smile when you're miserable. I love it when you smile, Sandra, and you don't do it often enough."

She could feel his hand on her hip, and she forced herself to keep her eyes shut. It took all of her self-control not to turn around and kiss him. It took everything she had not to let him know she could hear his confessions.

"All the times I went after other women, I think part of me was trying to make you jealous, as stupid as that must seem," he laughed lightly to himself. So he'd been trying to tempt her, had he? Trying to make her jealous? Well, it had bloody well worked. All the women he'd had in all those years, and she hadn't thought much of any of them. Especially that ex-detective all those years ago. She had really annoyed her.

"I love you," he whispered again, and buried his face into her neck. She couldn't do this. She couldn't resist anymore. This was where she was going to find it. Whatever _it_ was.

She threw her body around a hundred and eighty degrees and caught his lips in hers. "Boo," she smiled into his lips. She could see the shock in his eyes in the low sunlight of an early summer morning. She broke away from him and taunted, "You really should be more careful and check people are actually asleep before you spill your guts out to them."

"So should you," he accused, and her heart skipped into her mouth. "You didn't actually believe I slept right through everything you said?" he asked her incredulously. "Of course not. I tried to tell you earlier, when I said about having a dream."

That warm feeling in the pit of Sandra's stomach suddenly turned to ice. "_This_ is a dream," she whispered. It was too perfect to be a reality.

She woke with a start, for real this time, in Gerry's tight grip, her head under his chin, on hand on her hip and the other arm under her neck. She could feel cold sweat on her back, and her breathing was uneven. She had definitely kissed him last night – that she remembered perfectly well due to her embarrassment – but that last incident was a fantasy. The past two nights, with Gerry's arms wrapped around her, her sleep had been filled with fantasies that never became reality.

She stuck to him like a limpet clung to a rock. It was as if the only security she could get these days came from him. She had only three people constantly in her life nowadays: Brian, Steve and Gerry. Brian was unpredictable and erratic and had to be watched. Steve was always pulling one stunt or another, and he had a way of causing trouble with mobile phones. But Gerry was easy. She knew when Gerry was going to do something beyond idiotic, and she knew how to stop him. He was consistently funny, and he could make her smile when no-one else could.

A wave of madness fell over her and she tapped his chest, trying to wake him, "Gerry," she said to him gently. "Gerry!" she whispered more forcefully. "Gerry!"

He just grumbled something incomprehensible and tightened his grip on her. She slapped his cheeks very lightly and he woke up. "What?" he moaned groggily.

"Want to go for a walk?" she suggested. It was insane to suggest that when it was only just pushing five in the morning, but she wanted to spend some time alone with him without worrying about other people noticing she was about to break.

"What time is it?"

"Ten to five."

"Are you bloody mad?!" he demanded with a grumpy groan, sitting up and pulling her up with him. His arm was still draped around her neck, and he gazed down at her, trying to make sense of such an odd request. He sighed and got out of bed, getting dressed. Sandra, realising he had decided to humour her, did the same. They snuck out, and Sandra barely bothered with her appearance.

They walked down to Loch Portree, and sat on the banks, both admiring that beautiful view. Sandra was so confused. She was never confused. This was downright scary, falling in love. Because that was what she was doing, and she couldn't stop herself anymore.

"Sandra," Gerry said, laying a hand on her leg. She knew what he was up to. He was trying to get her to open up. "What's all this about? Not that this isn't lovely and everything, but it's a bit odd for you to do something like this."

"I honestly don't know," she admitted. "I don't know what this is. I don't know what I should be feeling. I swear I didn't mean to kiss you last night. You do realise that, don't you? I didn't mean to upset you or anything," she checked. "I just..." she trailed away, picking up bits of grass and stripping them apart just so she didn't have to meet his eyes.

"Look at me," he ordered her. She ignored him, and he put a hand under her chin and pulled her face around so she had no choice but to look at him. "There's nothing, Sandra, nothing you can't tell me."

The sun was warming the air rapidly and she felt it beating on her face. "There is plenty I can't tell you," she scoffed. "Believe me."

She searched his eyes for the answer she wanted from him, to a question she hadn't asked. What was she so scared of anyway? Gerry wasn't going to hurt her. Under all that brawn and that tough cookie act, she _knew_ he was soft as putty. "Explain this. I can't understand it," he explained to her.

"You know me by now, Gerry," she breathed out, so her voice was little more than a whisper. But in the still of the morning it didn't matter. "I'm too hard, too used to being alone, to let anyone in. My own mother has given up on me," she laughed humourlessly, trying to take some of the electric tension for the tiny space between them.

"You're not," he countered. "You're scared. There's a difference. I know you, like you said, and I know when you're scared. You've been terrified ever since I put our beds together. You just didn't push the issue so I wouldn't work out what you were scared of. I get it. I really do. You don't know how to deal with being human anymore, because you've blocked it out for so long."

There. He'd got it in one and he knew it. He had stripped her right down to her heart in one little speech. She had forgotten what human emotion that strong actually was. She had forgotten what it was to have someone to hold her during the night.

"Why do you do that?" she asked gently. "Why do you try and understand me?"

"The other option is to get pissed off with you, which I don't want to do. I understand your motives, Sandra," he reassured her. She didn't think it was even possible, but at that last sentence, she fell in love with him even more. She was in love with him, and she couldn't deny it anymore. She refused to deny it to herself anymore. What was the point?

"That's good, because I'm not sure I understand it," she quipped.

He didn't give her a reply. Not a verbal one, at least. His hand wandered to the back of her head, pulling her in towards him. She just sighed to him, "I'm yours."

She kissed him, and it was different this time. It wasn't an accident. It wasn't spur of the moment. It was emotional, and it was meaningful. It was perfection.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please drop a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


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